The Coraline Chronicles: Book 2: Lazarus Rising
by Sonosublime
Summary: Sequel to 'Axis of Shadow', and Part 2 of the 'Coraline Chronicles'. Several years have passed, and Coraline has come to love her new home. But when unexplained things begin to happen all around her, she fears that a dark presence has returned to the Pink Palace.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

_Darkness._

"_Coraline… It is time for you to come with me…"_

_Swirling mist._

"_Your time has come, Coraline… And you are living on borrowed time already…"_

_Awakening._

* * *

Coraline's eyes shot open, her hazel irises growing more pronounced as her pupils contracted to the light. She looked around to find herself lying on the floor in the dim sitting room of her parents' apartment. Everything was the same, but somehow… everything was different. The world seemed to have taken on a cold blue edge.

As she climbed to her feet, she looked down and realised that the entire floor was completely covered in a thick white mist.

"What the hell...?" the girl murmured, clutching herself for warmth. The room was as cold as ice.

As she wandered through the silent house, she found no sign of anyone.

"Guys?" she called. "Wybie? Anyone? Helloooooo?"

There was no answer.

As Coraline came to the dining room, she looked through the glass panes of the French doors that lined the external wall to see that it was still night-time outside.

_ How much time has passed since...?_

Her train of thought was cut off when she looked down the main hallway toward the front door and nearly screamed in fright.

Standing in the middle of the hallway was a dark figure.

By the scarce light coming from the dim ceiling fixture, she could see that it was a very old man. He was dressed in an immaculate black suit and tie. His face was grey and withered, and he gazed at her with dark and empty eyes, beneath a mop of grey, stringy hair.

He was… something else.

"Coraline," the creepy man said. "It is time for you to come with me."

The mist swirled around them.

"Stay away from me," Coraline said warningly. "I-I won't let you kill me, or take me, or whatever it is you do."

The old man smiled in a soothing manner, but something about his expression only served to unhinge her further. "I am not about to do anything unless you want it to happen. For now, I express only a desire to speak with you."

"Okay, fine. We're talking," Coraline said, her voice shaking. "What the hell do you want to talk about?"

The man took several steps toward her. She flinched and tried to take a step back, but found herself frozen in panic.

"How death is nothing to fear." He gently took her hands in his own at these words.

She felt a numbing sensation spreading throughout her body.

"Your time has come, Coraline," the man continued. "And you are living borrowed time already."


	2. Chapter 1: 42-42-564

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Welcome to the second story in my little _Coraline_ series. This follows on from my earlier story called 'Book 1: Axis of Shadow'. Although it is probably not absolutely necessary, I would advise that you read that first, as this story will refer to plot points from the earlier story.

As stated in the story description, several years have passed, and Coraline is now 17, while Wybie has already had his birthday and is now 18. If you want to get an idea of what they might look like at this age, check out the cover art for this story, or else go here:

radiantshade DOT deviantart DOT com SLASH art SLASH Coraline-sketch-dump-151625261

The sketch dump was drawn by SnuffyMcSnuff, a talented deviant artist.

Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter 1: [42-42-564]**

TWO MONTHS EARLIER...

In the state of Oregon was a seemingly insignificant little town called Ashland. On the outskirts of Ashland was a weird house in the woods called the Pink Palace. It was affectionately known to teenagers of the town as the local horror house, much to the chagrin of one of its residents.

This resident was a seventeen year old girl named Coraline Jones.

It was a bright and sunny Monday morning when she woke up. So, naturally, by the time she had changed into her school uniform, the world outside was pulsing with rain. Coraline sat down at her dresser, looking at her reflection in the oval mirror as she put her favourite dragonfly barrette in her hair.

Her appearance had matured since she moved to Oregon six years ago, but to many, she still looked like the same eleven year old girl. Coraline hated it when people said that.

Her face had become narrower in the years. She was taller too, but just as slender as she had always been. However, the damn freckles on her nose and cheeks, which had plagued her since childhood, simply refused to go away. They had caused her to be called 'cute' by too many guys, who quickly learned (the hard way) what happened if you dared to label Coraline Jones as cute.

Her bobbed blue hair was longer, although she maintained it at shoulder-length. She did not do ponytails.

Several months ago, the teenager did try experimenting with her hair – dying it green and tying it up into a bun. While it _had_ looked good, she did not feel that it was really _her_. So she had let her hair back down and dyed it back to its usual shade of blue.

Coraline smiled in satisfaction when the clip on the dragonfly barrette clicked into place. Her mother had tried buying her other barrettes over the years to make her into "more of a lady", but they lay forgotten in a drawer somewhere.

The schoolgirl had been surprised when she came to the realisation that many people in her grade saw her as something of a tomboy. Just because she liked to get her points across with punches to shoulders. Or with her knee into groins for people she did not like.

After some terrifying experiences when she was eleven, she did not scare easy anymore. That should not make her any less of a girl in anyone's eyes.

Tough? Sure. But tomboy...?

"Coraline!" a voice called from downstairs. "Hurry up, or you're going to miss the bus!"

"Yes, mum!" she called back as she grabbed her shoulder bag and padded downstairs.

Charlie and Mel Jones sat at the kitchen table. Steaming cups of coffee sat in front of them as they read a newspaper and typed away on a laptop respectively.

"Hey, Cora," Charlie said as he rose from his seat to take his cup to the sink, ruffling her hair in the process.

"Daaaaad!" she groaned. "I just fixed my hair!"

"Why so touchy about it? Is there a boy at school you're trying to impress?"

"_Dad!"_

He raised his hands in surrender and sauntered off to the sink. Coraline ducked out into the hallway and stood in front of the tall mirror hanging at the end of the passageway, running her hands through her hair in an effort to straighten it again.

She froze when she realised she could see _through_ the mirror. A dark and barren room lay on the other side.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, it was only her wide-eyed reflection staring back at her. She raised a hand and touched the iron spike pendant hanging from a necklace she had worn for the past six years.

It was all in the past – nothing more.

Coraline was shaken, but composed herself as she re-entered the kitchen. "The boss working you guys hard?" she said half-jokingly as she gulped down a glass of orange juice.

"Don't you know it," her mother replied, brushing a lock of dark-brown hair behind her ear, her eyes never leaving the screen of the laptop. "That conference in Portland is coming up, and your father and I need to finish these articles ASAP."

"So they can be edited to perfection, huh?"

There was no answer, and the teenager resisted the urge to huff indignantly. With the annual conference for the Portland-based gardening catalogue coming up, her parents had gone into overdrive with preparation. She had not seen them so busy since the week after they had first moved to Oregon, six years ago. Her mother had gone into that familiar mode again, where she wanted nothing more than to be left alone to work.

For Mel Jones, when there was a job to be done, everything else was only background noise.

Coraline popped a piece of toast into her mouth, slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave the room.

"Take your raincoat," Charlie piped up.

"Yes, dad."

"And make sure you're home on time today," Mel interjected. "No staying behind in town with your friends. You have studying to do and your father needs to cook dinner early tonight, so he can get on with his writing his articles." She cast a pointed glare at her husband with these words.

Coraline scowled at her father, only half-jokingly. "_You're_ cooking, Dad? It's not enough that you try to embarrass me to death in front of my friends, but you also repeatedly try to give me an early death by green goo!"

She headed for the front door before he could reply, where she grabbed a hip-length, high-collared yellow raincoat hanging from one of the hooks by the door. She grabbed her yellow umbrella and pulled on the raincoat (they had been birthday presents from her mother the previous year).

Unfortunately, her new pair of matching yellow rain-boots did not comply with the school dress code, and so she pulled on her black school shoes instead. She would have to dodge puddles on the walk to the bus-stop down the road.

On the way, she veered off toward the home of the landlady of the Pink Palace apartments. The house sported a new coat of light blue paint – Coraline and her friends had done the job last summer in an effort to make some extra money. Despite this, place still looked about as old and creaky as the Pink Palace.

True to nature, the front steps groaned in protest as Coraline walked up to the porch. She knocked on the door and waited patiently. Before long, it was opened by an old woman with her greying hair tied up in a bun. The years had not been kind to her joints, and she now required a walking frame to get around.

"Oh, hello Coraline," she said brightly.

"Morning, Mrs Lovat," she greeted, rocking back on her heels. "Is Wybie nearly ready?"

"I called for him to get up over an hour ago, but he hasn't come downstairs yet."

The teenager sighed. She knew this tune. "Leave it to me," she smiled, wiping her shoes on the doormat, shrugging off her raincoat and making her way up the staircase of the old house. Mrs Lovat's limited mobility prevented her from accessing the upper floor of her house. This often caused a problem on school mornings, as her grandson's bedroom was on the second floor.

Coraline came to the bedroom door at the end of the upstairs hall and marched in without bothering to knock. No one would be awake to answer, anyway.

Sure enough, she was greeted by the sight of a lanky eighteen year old boy, lying tangled in his bed sheets in his charming black skull pyjamas. Wyborne Lovat's mop of curly dark-red hair was as crazy as ever. Coraline often teased him about the finding of ancient civilisations that were buried in there.

But there was no time for that now. Folding her arms across her chest, she marched over to the bed, leaned down and yelled in his ear, _"Wake up, Wyborne!"_

The teenage boy awoke with a startled cry and fell out of his bed, hitting the ground on the other side with a loud _THUMP_. His friend tried to muffle her laughter, only to fail miserably.

"You really need to stop doing that," he grumbled, poking his head over the far side of the bed. "You're gonna make me crack my tailbone or something."

"Sure thing," she lied, turning to look at her reflection in the dressing mirror and adjusting her barrette. "Get up and get dressed, or we're going to miss the bus."

Again, Wybie caught himself before he stared for too long. It was just that in her school uniform – a grey blazer, white button-up blouse and dark-green tie, pleated navy-blue skirt and black tights – Coraline cut a smart figure.

Her hazel eyes narrowed as she turned back toward him. "If you're not downstairs in two minutes, I'm going to come back up here and kick your butt."

Wybie groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, knowing full well that his friend would hold true to her word. He dragged himself over to the wardrobe and rifled for a white button shirt, navy blue pants and green tie. When he trudged downstairs, he found Coraline in the kitchen, sitting at the table and chatting amiably with his grandmother.

"Morning, Grandma. What's for breakfast?"

"No time for bacon and eggs, since you didn't get up this morning," the old woman chided. "But I packed you a sandwich to eat on the bus."

Wybie cringed internally when he saw the paper bag sitting on the table. Right in front of Coraline. He knew that she already thought he was a geek. The last thing he needed was to look like he was all wrapped up in his grandmother's apron strings as well!

Mercifully, Coraline did not say anything about it. "See you later, Mrs Lovat!" she said, standing and pulling her yellow raincoat back on. She swung her bag over her shoulder and tossed her friend's backpack over to him. "Let's go, Wybie."

The walk down to the bus-stop was quiet, aside from the patter of rain all around them. Coraline held her umbrella aloft for both of them.

"You know, we'd get to school quicker if we took my bike instead of the bus," Wybie finally offered.

He often teased Coraline about the fact that, while she had received a raincoat, umbrella and rain-boots for her seventeenth birthday, he had been given a brand new _motorcycle_ for his. It was a Kawasaki KLX140L Enduro off-road bike, and one which he could regularly be seen tearing around the neighbourhood on.

"Yeah, but I have some stupid maths homework to finish, and I can't do it on the back of your motorbike," she shot back.

"You had all weekend to do it, but you left it to the last minute again?" the boy smirked. Which was promptly wiped off his face when she punched him in the arm. Hard. "OW!"

It was Coraline's turn to smirk. Until she saw the drab yellow school-bus pulling up to the bus-stop further down the road. "Oh, crud! Run!"

* * *

In the basement apartment of the Pink Palace, a rotund little old English lady crossed her bedroom to the wardrobe and carefully pulled down a wooden box from the top shelf. She opened it to reveal an array of fat candles of various different colours.

April Spink set aside her walking frame and selected two candles from the box.

White for spiritual blessings and purity.

Black for repulsion, dark thoughts and freedom from evil.

"Aaaaaaapril!" the voice of her flatmate trilled through the closed door. "Shall I put on some tea for us?"

"Yes, thank you, Miriam!" Ms Spink called back. "And perhaps we could bake some cookies later on today? I'm getting rather sick of taffy."

There was a moment of silence, before the crash of a breaking cup split the air.

"Oh, gosh darn it!" her friend could be heard cursing from the kitchen.

She sighed and slapped her forehead. Her friend, Miriam Forcible, was steadily losing her eyesight over the years. It would not be long before she was completely blind. Of course, the tall, plump and over-dramatic woman often claimed that she would probably die of old age first.

Ms Spink crossed the room to her dresser, where there was an assortment of stones, Nigerian masks, and pictures of various Hausa deities leaning against the wall and mirror. She sat down on the stool before the dresser, carefully placed the candles in the centre of the makeshift altar and lit them.

She let the candles burn for a full fifteen minutes, all the while muttering in the Hausa language. Eventually, she licked the digits of her left thumb and index finger and pinched the candles out with a _PFSSST!_

When all was said and done, she relaxed, closed her eyes and sighed in satisfaction as the smoke from the candles drifted lazily into the air. The ritual had succeeded.

It had been repelled from the Pink Palace once more.


	3. Chapter 2: Conduct

**Chapter 2: Conduct**

* * *

The school day began like any other: the books in Coraline's locker were soaked when she shoved her equally wet raincoat and umbrella inside. She was pissed, but reined in her temper, waved goodbye to Wybie and trudged off down the hallway to maths class. She was then yelled at by the teacher for not doing her homework.

"Honestly, Coraline, if you want to pass your Advanced Placements, you're going to have to knuckle down. This is the most important year of your life."

The teenager sighed as she made her way over to a spare desk, collapsed into the hard plastic chair and buried her face in her arms. She had heard it all from her parents before.

Pressure. Importance. Success.

Right.

She heard a snigger and peeked up to see a familiar and hated blonde girl shooting glances over the shoulder at her and whispering to her friends. Coraline groaned and buried her face again. The last thing she needed was to give Holly Bower more ammunition to use against her.

It didn't help that Holly was the friggin' poster child of Ashland. Straight A grades, captain of the swim team, and the most popular girl in school.

Whereas Coraline, by comparison, was the skinny girl with blue hair, who lived in the weird pink house in the woods, and had a weird friend and weird interests.

The tomboy.

_Today is going to suck..._

* * *

By the time the bell rang for lunch, the rain was coming down full-pelt, and Coraline was ready to kill someone. More maths homework was to be submitted by the end of the week, along with an essay for English on a stupid, badly-written and insensitive book on crime, called 'Bombs, Guns and Knives'.

"Hey Coraline!" came a voice from down the hall.

She looked over to see Miranda Fletcher, a pretty brunette girl, coming toward her, her ponytail sweeping through the air. Several bangs fell over her face, partially curtaining her stunning blue eyes.

"Oh, hey Miranda," the blue-haired girl said without much enthusiasm.

"I heard you got chewed out in maths class again," her friend said with sympathy.

This caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Jackson."

Her face darkened. "Maybe Jackson ought to mind his own business. Remind me why we hang out with him again?"

Miranda shrugged. "He's Wybie's best friend?"

"Exactly. _Wybie's_ best friend," she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock-melodrama. "Why do _we_ have to suffer him as well?"

As the pair of girls entered the crowded and noisy cafeteria, they saw the messy mop of black hair of the boy in question sitting at their usual table, adjusting his glasses. Jackson Thompson looked up and flashed the two girls a smile, as well as a wink to Coraline.

"Here we go..." she groaned.

"Hey, Michigan," Jackson said coyly as she sat down. "So, have you reconsidered my offer? If you like, we could make it dinner, AND a movie."

"Totally not a cliché date idea at all," she said sarcastically. "You know, for a nerd, you're _way_ too cocky for your own good."

The boy raised his hands in a placating manner, just as Wybie returned from the counter, laden with chicken strips, cheese toasties and some drinks.

"Here," he said, handing a Coffee Chill to Coraline. "You looked like you could have used one this morning."

"Thanks," she said gratefully, slamming down a handful of coins on the table and then chugging down about half of the carton of flavoured milk in about five seconds. "You're a lifesaver."

The mop-haired boy smiled shyly as he sat down at the table. However, it faded when he glanced over at Jackson. All throughout their years at school, Coraline and Wybie had been great friends. At the age of fifteen, he finally admitted to himself that he did have a crush on Coraline, but that was as far as he ever got.

Three years later, the mop-haired boy was still frustrated at himself for his inability to just man up and ask her out. Hell, Jackson had no problem doing it, so why did he?

* * *

For Coraline, the day got marginally better from there. Although the final period of the day was the only class which she was really looking forward to: music lessons. It was there that she found herself sitting before an old upright piano in the corner of the small music classroom, her teacher having provided her with scales to practice, before leaving to make a personal phone call.

_She's never here to actually teach me anything,_ Coraline thought grumpily. _I might as well teach myself._

Instead of playing the boring scales, the teenager ran through a mental list of songs which she knew off the top of her head; 'Passacaglia' by Handel, 'Moonlight Sonata' and 'Fur Elise' by Beethoven. As well as more contemporary songs, such as 'Mad World' by Gary Jules, and 'It's Been Awhile' by Staind. It was just a matter of deciding which one to play.

As she ran through the list in her head, she absentmindedly began tapping out a familiar set of notes on the piano.

_D… E… B A B…_

Her eyes widened when she realised what she was doing. She always caught herself inadvertently playing the "five keys", which had allowed her to find the souls of a pair of children who had been trapped in the web of a terrifying monster six years ago.

Coraline made a mental note to go and visit the tree at the edge of the woods, which had two crosses scratched into the bark of its trunk, after school. It had been a while since she had visited the place where she had buried four plastic buttons – the only worldly 'remains' left of the two victims – and she wanted to pay her respects.

"That doesn't sound like scales to me," her piano teacher's voice cut out across the room, causing the girl to half-jump in fright. The middle-aged woman chuckled, slightly amused by her student's jumpy nature. "Honestly, Coraline, you look like you've seen a ghost."

* * *

At the end of the day, Coraline and Miranda were some of the last students to leave the school, having elected to stay behind for a voluntary study group. She was beginning to regret taking Advanced Placements more and more.

Seeing how bus services up into the hills were long over for the evening, Miranda offered her a lift home, which she accepted against her better judgement. Next thing she knew, Miranda's car zoomed out of the school car-park and shot off down the street like a bat out of hell.

No matter how long she had known her, Coraline was always astonished at Miranda's insane driving habits. She was a speed demon behind the wheel, and it was amazing that she had not been arrested yet. Between Miranda's speeding and Wybie's motorbike, Coraline believed it was a miracle she had not been killed yet.

Speaking of which…

"Hey, does Wybie seem to be acting weird lately?" she asked. Seeing her friend's expression, she added, "Well, weirder?"

Miranda sat in contemplative silence for a moment. "Well, he does seem a bit quieter, I guess."

"Why do you think – Uh, you know you just ran that red light, right?"

"Just barely!" she insisted. "The light turned red as I drove under it."

Coraline pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing in terror. Why, oh why, did she keep accepting lifts from this maniac? Fortunately, they left the town and entered the wooded hills, where there would be less chance of Miranda being pulled over for speeding. She had to be going twenty k's over the limit, at the very least.

"So you think Wybie is acting odd, huh?" she said, bringing her friend's mind back to the previous topic of conversation.

Coraline nodded. "Why do you think that is?"

"If I had to think about it, I'd say it began around the time when Jackson started asking you out." The brunette smirked teasingly. "Do you think he might be jealous?"

She frowned at the insinuation. "Of course not! Wybie and I are just friends."

The Pink Palace came into view as Miranda swung her car around the final corner, at a speed that left common sense rolling in the mud (and her passenger gripping her seat until her knuckles went white).

"More like each other's shadow," she pointed out. "I rarely see one of you without the other. He's your best friend."

"_You're_ my best friend, Miranda," Coraline argued.

"I'm _one_ of your best friends," she shot back, causing her hazel-eyed friend to silently concede. "All I'm saying is that maybe 'friends' doesn't cut it for him anymore," she continued.

Coraline considered her words, but ultimately came to the conclusion that they could not be true. She had dated several different idiots over the years, and Wybie had never acted weird (well, weirder than usual).

But now… it was almost as if their friendship had regressed back to that awkward relationship they had when Coraline had first moved to Oregon.

She vowed to get to the bottom of his strange behaviour, if it was the last thing she did.


End file.
